When your skin is burning. Your mind is a temple of fire. You lie for hours on sweat stained sheets. You're caught in a crossfire of fever. Your dreams are nothing but of an athlete running on a track. Your lips are broken and your tongue is bitter. You want death, but you feel something else. And only thoughts haunt. I've forgotten how you look. Your name is whispered by ghosts in my sleep. There is darkness behind the lampshade. Beyond that I feel weak. I am lost. I walk from one room to another with flowers looking for the perfect funeral. In front of mirrors I softly cry.